res fc o^ 

PS 635 19 

C908 

1889 

-pv 1 LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS: 



OR, 



THE GUERRILLA'S DOOM 



A WAR DRAMA, 

(AV THREE ACTS.) 
BY 

J. N. CULVER. 

RespeclfDlly Dedicated to tlie Grand Amy of tlie RepuDlic. 



REVISED EDITION. 



ST. ALBANS, VT. : 
WALLACE PRINTING COMPANY, 

1889. 



LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS: 



OR, 



THE GUERRILLA'S DOOM 



A WAR DRAMA, 

{LV THREE ACTS.) 
BY 

I ^ 

T J. N. CULVER. 

ResDectfnlly Dedicated to tlie Grand Army of tlie RepDllc. 



REVISED EDITION 



ST. AL15AXS, VT. : 2^ 5 ^ 3 ^ 
WALLACE PRINTING COMPANY. /y 

1889. f^ 






X* 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1889 

By J. N. CULVER, 

In the Ofifice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 



TMP92-008997 



CAST OF" CHARACTERS. 



UNIONISTS. 



Mk M \kks, - - - - A Tennessee Farmer 

William mIrks, - - Son of Mr. Marks, in Union army. 

\Valter Greenwood, - - - " Union Spy. 

John Steel, ----- Union Soldier. 

Robert Davis, ' ' ,, 

P.^T O'DoHERTV, - - - ■ 

Sam Hannib.^l. - - - " ' Contraband. 

Coi BARKER, - - Commanding Union Regiment. 

Lieut. Green, - - - Adjutant " 

Alice Marks, - - - " Daughter of Mr. Marks. 

Clara Steel. - - - " Sister to F red Steel. 

WiDOU Powers, - " " " Tennessee Lady. 

Makv Powers, - - Widow Powers' Daughter- 

CONFEDERATES. 
Fred Steel, - - • " Chief of Guerillas 

Sam Smith, ------ Guenlla. 

J.\coB Kfi'KUACH, (Conscript,) ... 

Joe Blake, (Greenwood in disguise,) - - - " 

George M.^CK, ----- Rebel Guard. 



COSTUN^ES. 

Mr. Marks — Hunting. Wm. Marks — Private Soldier. Walter Green- 
wood — I St, Disguised as Guerrilla; 2d, Captain: 3d, Prison; 4th, Disguise; 
5th, Captain. J.ohn Steel — Prison. Robert Davis — ist, Prison; 2d, Pri- 
vate; 3d, Prison; 4th, Private. P.\t O'Dohertv — Private. Sam Hannm- 
bal — ist, Plantation; 2d, Soldier. Col. Barker, Capt. Dunbar, Adju- 
tant, &c., equipped according to regulations. 

Alice Marks — ist Mourning; 2d, Travelling; 3d, Bridal. Clara 
Steele — ist, Mourning; 2d, Travelling. Widow Powers and Mary Pow- 
ers — Home. 

Fred Steel — ist. Red Flannel Shirt and Light Gray Pants; 2d, Light 
Gray Coat and Pants. Sam Smith, Joe Blake, and Jacob Kopfbach — 
Flannel Shirt and Gray Pants. Geo. Mack— Gray. 



Pistols, Revolvers, Dirks and Knives (no guns or swords,) for Guerrillas. 
1 Table, 4 Chairs, for Home Scene. Basket of Work for Mrs Powers. Old 
Army Blanket for John Steel. Ammunition and Colors for Regiment. Can- 
dles. Basket of Crackers and Water Proof Cloak for Aunt Nancy. News- 
paper for Mary Powers. One package of large Envelopes and 6 Canteens. 



STAGE DIRECTIOrsIS. 

{Actor supposed to be on stage , facing audience .) 

Exits and Entrances. — R. means right ; L, left ; C, center at back , 
I E, 1st entrance ; 2 E, 2d efitrance ; 3 E, 3d entrance. 

Rel.vfive Positions ON Stage. — R, means right; L, left; C, center, 
R C, right of center ; L C, left of center. 



LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS: 

OR, 

THE GUERRILLA'S DOOM 



ACT I. 

Scene First. — Wood or Mountain Scene — Fred Steel and his Gangof Giiet- 
rilla's discovered Playing Cards," Smoking, and Drinking — "We Won't 
Go Home Till Morning." 

Fkkd Stekl. — Well, hoys, we must hurry up our talking; for 
you know I am off before light to-morrow morning. 

Jacoh Koi'FBACH. — Yah, Has ish so, but we fellers vants to 
drink your goot health pefore you goes. 

Fkkd Stekle. — Yes, boys, I am going to leave you; yet if I 
(ion't like it at Libl^y, I shall come back again. But, before we 
break up, I want you to elect a new Captain. I want you to 
put in a man who won't be afraid to hear a woman yell, either; 
for sometimes they have tried to bother us when we have been 
sort of looking over their houses. I have thought Sam would 
make a good one. '.Vhat do the rest of you think? 
All of the Guerrillas call for Sam Smith, Captain Smith, &c., &c. 

Sam Smith. — I don't know what to say, l)oys; I am no speech 
maker; but I didn't onc't think you would appint me Cajium; 
there is men here as has got more larnin' than I has, but, if you 
wants me, I'll sarve and I never will ask one on yer to go where 
I won't. 

All the Guerrillas e.xclaim: "Good, goodi Hurrah for Captain Sam." — 
All Cheer. 

Fked SiEKi.. — We have been together, boys, for over two 
years, and there is not a man here but what can count his stamps 
by the thousand; and, while we have been helping ourselves, 
we have been supporting the "Bonnie Blue Flag." I received 
a letter of commendation from Gen. John Morgan, today, with 



my Colonel's commissi )n. He says that our company has been 
the most successful of any under his command, and that he wishes 
he had more such men. So don't let a chance slip to strike a 
blow for Southern rights. To l)e sure, we have suffered — all 
l)rave soldiers must. We have lost many good men by these 
so-called "Loyal Mountaineers," who are nothing but cowards 
at best, and thanks be to Capt. Sam Smith's Kangers that the 
country is rid of some them. 

Jacob K. — Yah, if I ever get a glimds of dem Loyal Moun- 
taineers, mine Gott in himmel how I makes shoot at um. 

S.\:vi Smith. — Only one man now lives that I really dread, 
and that is Old Marks. I think I've seen him onc't, but don't 
know him. I seen an old man with long white hair and whis- 
kers, (^pointing to Walter Greenwood, who is in disguise,) jes' 
like Joe's, and if I had had my gun, I would have known, sure. 

Fred vSteel. — Sam, I don't want Old Marks killed. You 
Know we went to his house in the night, and got about ten thou- 
sand dollars in gold, put the old woman and Charlie out of the 
way, and I have Alice down to Widow Powers'. We burnt up 
the old man's house, and I guess on the whole he has got his 
pay for his Yankee talk. 

Sam Smith. — Yes, I know all that; and we thought the old 
man was dead, too; but here he has been prowling around like 
a hyena, and has murdered sixteen of our best boys. I think 
he ought ter be put out of the way. 

Fked Steel. — You are Captain now, and will do just as you 
choose after I am gone; but I wish we could take him prisoner 
— and then don't you see I could make him give his consent to 
my marrying Alice? 

Sam Smith. — There is somethin' in that. Colonel; and I will 
promise you that we will take him alive, if possible; but if I get 
sight on him, he's my meat, dead or alive. 

Jacob K. — Yell we's must get vay off from here pooty quick 
or we's won't make some honest greenbacks tonight. 

Fred Steel. — I know, Jacob, but I want to chat with you a 
little before I go, and we want to drink Captain Sam's health, 
too. You know this Yankee whiskey is tip-top. How that chap 
did bellow when I popped him over and took his team and bar- 
rel of whiskey. 

Jacob K. — Mine Gott what schnapps dat ish, vat a pedy there 
ish so leetle, petter pe zwie, drie forty parrels of it. Poys, dish 
ish your last night mit Colonel, so 1 says we'll all drink his goot 
health, den Captain Sam's goot health, den mine; make reaty. 



7 

Here ish to de Colonel who's nimo ish Steel, 
He goes away now, dat ish aus ge speil. 
(All drink.) 

Here ish to Capiun Sam Smit who leads us mit a fight, 
As we go though the Yankees houses in ter dead of night. 
(All drink.) 

Here ish to Missh Alice Marks vat de Colonel vants for frow, 
If her old tuyful daddy don't raise one pig row. 
(All drink.) 

Here ish to Jacob Kopfbach, dat ish me, 
1 fights mit Sam Smit in East Tennessee. 

Kki.I) Steki.. — Nov,, l)oys, here is one for you. May you ever 
prove as true to your new Captain as you have to me. Since 
our company has been organized we have supported ourselves 
from the Yankee .Army. When we first started there were only 
six of us. Xow we have over one hundred. We have taken all 
our horses from the Yankee army, and nearly all we have came 
from them. (^en. Morgan writes me that there are twenty-three 
hundred men in the whole regiment, and all th.it he has ever 
had from the South was twentv-seven army saddles — his horses, 
clothing, arms and ammunition, having been taken from the 
'S'ankees. 

Sam Smith. — Colonel, do you know where Old Marks is 
now ? 

FkkI) >rEKi.. — No, 1 can not tell, but 1 think he is over the 
other side of ihe mountain. I am going down to Widow Pow- 
ers' tonight to try and persua<ie .Alice to go to Richmond with 
me. How like a fool she behaves. She shall Ije my wife, 
sooner or later. 

JacoH K. — Vats te tuyful te use to botterin mit das g.il. You 
vants a vife pout so much ash te man in ter moon vants a new 
hat. -And the tviyful himself couldn't stop her from marrying mit 
that spv Valter (Jreenwot. .And how is she going to marry mit 
both of you? 

Ik HI) Stki-,1,. — (Ireenwood is far from here in the Army of 
the Potomac, and Alice Marks can not see him. If he is brought 
to Libhy while I am in comman(', won't I have some sport? 
[l.ooks'at his watch.] Well, boys, we must part. I am bound 
to see .Alice before I go. Here, Captain [gives him his Revolv- 
er], take this as a present. 

Sam Smi'IH. — Thank'e, Colonel, Fll try anrl make good use 
on't. I suppose you will cr>.ss the river in our new boat, as the 
bridges are all burnt? 

FkkI) Stekl. — \'e>, I told Frank that I should be there to- 
night, and he must have everything reaoy for me. C.en. Mor- 



8 

gan will have a horse for me on the other side. Xow, Captain, 
I have one request to make of you, and that is that you let Jacob 
go with me to Richmond. I will send hiai back again soon 
after I get there, and I would like to have you and some of the 
men go down to Widow Powers' with me. 

Sam Smith. — All right, Colonel, Jacob can go with you, and 
I will take some men and see you safe across the river. 

All Exit R, but Jacob. 

Jacob K. — Yah, I am going mit Colonel Steel to Richmond. 
Dash is all right. I fites mit Sam Smith, not pecause I vants 
to, put pecause I can't gits away. Mebby I don't petter stay 
here, mebby I gets away mit Colonel Steel and tiiids my brud- 
der in de "S'ankee army, den I goes and Hghts mit Siegel. 

Exit, R. Enter Old Marks, L. 

Marks. — Alone, alone, all, all alone 1 Two years ago I was 
happy — happy as any man in East Tennessee. How is all 
changed! Then I was rich — now I have nothing, not even a 
crust of bread ! Then I was happy with my family; I had honor 
among my fellow men I Why this change? All i^ecause I 
loved the Old Flag. When the cry of war arose, what was I to 
do? Should I see that flag under which I had lived and pros- 
pered trailed in the dust ! Should I see my country ruined,and 
her just laws destroyed? Nay; shouki I be a willing instru- 
ment in this work of vandalism? I saw but one course to pur- 
sue, and, though it has cost me dear, I thank (jod that he has 
given me strength to pursue it thus far. How fearful the cost 
of loyalty ! My house burned, my wife murdered, my eldest 
son hung, my youngest driven away, my daughter nowhere to 
be found, and myself beaten and left for dead ! But my time 
had not come. I took a solemn vow of vengeance, and sixteen 
guerrillas have fallen before my steady aim in atonement of my 
wrongs. The debt is not paid yet. I feel that 1 shall see my 
daughter soon. I hear that she is somewhere in this vicinity. 
[Crosses the stage.] I must try and Hnd out what that party of 
guerrillas over there are planning. I dare say they are trying 
to find me, or murder some Union man. [Goes and looks out 
at R.] I have been following you for three days, and you are 
one less than when you started. What ! Fred Steel a guerrilla? 
'Twas you, then, who led the gang that murdered my wife and 
child. You who told me that you should never aid the South- 
ern cause. Yillian ! you, too, shall die the death of a coward 
and traitor; but not yet. My revenge is sure. Ha! he comes 
this way. I must conceal myself. [Hides.] 



Enter Fred Steel and two Guerrillas R. 3d E., and go out at L. 3d E. As soon 
as they pass ofTthe stage, enter Walter Greenwood R. 3d E., in disguise 
as a guerrilla. Mr. Marks sees him, and rises to shoot, but Greenwood 
makes motions to him not to. Advances to Marks, and takes oft his 
whiskers and hair. 

Mk. Marks. — What, Walter Green vvood? 

W'Ai.TKK G. — Yes, I am here. I have been here two or three 
weeks hunting for you, and I hardly know how I happened to 
see you now. We must talk fast, as the gang have camped near 
here, an<i may see us. 

M.VKK.s. — Can you tell me wiiere my children are? 

Walter Ci. — Yes; William is in the .\rmy of the Potomac, in 
the same regiment with me. .\lice is with Widow Powers, at 
the foot of the mountain, where she was put by Fred Steel as a 
prisoner; hut Mrs. Powers is as kind to her as a mother. Steel 
has gone there to-night to see her, and, if possible, take her 
with him to Richmond. 

Marks. — Take her to Richmond? 

Walter G. — Yes, .steel has received a commision as Colonel. 
He has been assigned to Lil)by prison as commander, and starts 
to-night for Richmond. 

.M.^RKS. — I must go at once to my daughter, and save her 
from this murderer's hands, if possible. 

Walter G. — You need not fear of her going with him. Tell 
Alice I will see her to-morrow; but I must go back to camp 
now, or they will miss me. 

Marks. — When shall you return to your regiment? 

Walter G. — In two or three days I have got to visit the 
Rebel camp once more, and then I am off. 

Marks. — He cautious, (Greenwood, and not run too great a 
risk. I am going to see my daughter, and then start for the 
Army of the Potomac, and find my only boy. This is my last 
night on this mountain. But I must avenge my wife's murder. 
Good by. [Sliaking hands.] Tell William that his father is 
alive and well, and will soon see him. [Exit (ireenwood, K. 3 E.] 
(Marks goes and looks out at R.) I see their camp now, and 
(ireenwood is talking with them. Now for my last shot on this 
mountain. (Takes aim and fires.) One more added to my re- 
venge, and seventeen sneaking guerrillas gone to their long 
home. [Looking.] .\h I you are coming this way for me, are 
you? Goo<l-by to Fred Steel's guerrillas and the Cumberland 
Mountains for the j^resent. 



lO 



ACT I. 



Scene Second. — Home of Mrs. Powers — Tables, Chairs, &c., &c. — Mrs. 
Powers, Mary Powers and Alice Marks talking. 

Alice. — Mrs. Powers : I have been thinking all thi.s evening 
that I should again see my dear father; but I have feared that he 
would be murdered by Kred .Steel's gang of outlaws. It is near- 
ly midnight, and I must retire. 1 can not sleep lately. I can't 
help thinking of that dreadful night when mother and Charley 
were so brutally murdered, and our house laid waste, by the 
hands of one we supposed our best friend. 

Mrs. }'. — Alice, dear, don't talk about that to-night, for you 
know it always makes you sick ; but you are getting stronger 
now, and must --ry and persuade yourself that it was God's will, 
and all for the best. I know it was terrible and wicked on the 
part of Fred Steel to take such a course, but it is done and can 
not now he helped. Alice, I think you will again see your 
father and brother. 

Alice. — It is my constant prayer that I may; l)Ut father has 
such biiter enemies that I Ijelieve if he were to come here to- 
night, and the guerrillas should know it, they would kill him be- 
fore my eyes; but not until they had passed over my dead body. 

Mrs. p. — Come, come, Alice, don't talk any more to-night; 
you are tired, and I am afraid you will get excited. 

Alice. — I know it, kind friend, but I can't help it. To think 
that Fred Steel, that detestable coward, should act such a part. 
And then imprison me here, as he supposed; but, thank God, I 
could not have fallen into kinder hands. And then to come 
here and talk to me of love; if 1 dared do it, I would send his 
soul before his Maker. What if Fred Steel should tind out that 
you were a strong Union woman and all of your family loyal, 
and that you were helping Union prisoners across the lines almost 
every day, and that this house was pointed out to escaped pris- 
oners from nearly all the Southern prisons? 

Mrs. p. — .Alice, please be more careful; you must remember 
not to speak of that again aloud. With (iod's help we will 
keep it a secret, and as long as I have a crust of bread in the 
house, just so long shall I be happv to give it to the "Bovs in 
Blue." 

Mary. — Come, Alice, we will now retire and get some rest; 
you know we can not tell what the morrow will bring forth. I 
dare say Fred Steel will be here to look after your A\elfare and 
see that you do not escape. I wonder where Sam is; he has 
not gone to bed yet? You know we sent him out about eight 



o'clock to see if there were any escaiied prisoners to help, and 
he has not returned. 

Alick. — We have, indeed, forgotten poor Sam. I fear some 
of tliose sneaking guerrillas have suspected and watched him. 

Knter Sam, cautiously at R., 3 E. 

S.AM. — Missus, dar is a poor sojer boy outsirle starved mos to 
def, but he is feard you is Sesesh, and gwine to sen' him back 
to Castle Thunder or Castle l.ightnin', or some other dreftul 
place. I tole him don't be afeard. I>ut, .Miss Powers, you must 
be careful, for 1 'spec Fred Steel is comin'. 

Mrs. P. — (io out and tell him to come in, and then you go out 
to the oh; shed and wait for him. [Kxit Sim R., 3 E. Enter 
Robert Davis.] 

Mrs. p. — My dear boy, where have you come from? ^■(JU 
need not be afraid to tell, for we are all your friends. 

RoHKUT D.A\ls. Two weeks ago three of us got out of Salis- 
burv prison. The other two boys were caught and killed in my 
sight. I had climbed a tree just soon enough to save my life. 

Mrs. p. — Lheer up, my brave boy; you at last have f»mnd 
friends. Here vou are safe. We will soon find a way to help 
you to free(U)m and safety. 

R. 1). How your kind words cheer me. They are so difter- 
ent from what I have heard for the last six months. They give 
me new life and strength. 

Loud rap.s heard at door at u. 

Mrs. p. — Mary, show this soldier where to conceal himself, 
and then see who is at the door. 

Mary. — Come this way. [Mary and Rol>ert cri)ss to R. 
.Mary points out 3 E.] Turn to your right and follow the path 
until vou come to an old shed, where you will tind Sam. Stay 
there until we call you. 

Exit Robert Davis at R. Loud raps continued at door at L. Mar>- ()i>ens 
the door, when Fred Steel enters. 

Ekkd S. — (iood evening, ladies; I am quite late. 

M.VRV. — What brings you here at this time of night? 

Frkd S. — 1 have receivetl a commission as Colonel for my 
brave deeds on these mountains, and have l)een ordered to 
Richmond to take charge of the Yankee boarding house— what 
is better known as Libby Prison. .And as I had a l.ttle time, I 
thought I would come and see my dear Alice before I left, hop- 
ing she would like to go to Richmond with me as Mrs. Colonel 
Steel. 

.\LICK. — Ni.vi:r. 



Fred S. — Mrs. Powers, you and Mary can retire. I will keep 
guard over Alice until I call you. 
Mrs. Powers and Mary retire L. 

Fred S. — [Advancing toward Alice.] Alice, my dear, why 
look so scornfully? Be cheerful — come, come now, don't act 
so. You know 1 love you. [Takes hold of her arm.] 

Alice. — [Striking his hand away.] Unhand me, sir; your 
fingers are stained with my mother's blood. 

Fred S. — Alice, don't speak of that again — let it pass; you 
know I never intended to shoot your mother. 

Alice. — Why do you come to taunt me with your tales of 
love? You who murdered my mother and brother, and tried to 
murder my father. 

Fred S. — Alice I have often asked your forgiveness for the 
deeds of that dreadful night. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, I wish to ask you one question, and I 
want an honest answer. Why did you take such a cowardly 
part in this wicked Rebellion, going from house to house in the 
dead of night and murdering riefenceless people? Old men and 
women, and even innocent children, have died at the hands of 
your fiendish gang. 

Fred S. — Why ask me such questions? Did I not rid the 
country of nearly all the Yankee spies in this section. I would 
not harm a woman or a child, if they did not interfere with my 
busmess. Futhermore, I was promised a commission if I made 
way with these traitors. Honestly, Alice, I have often wished 
I had not taken the course I have; but it is now too late. 

Alice. — No, not too late; burn your rebel commission; go 
North ; put on a blue coat, and help crush the greatest and most 
wicked Rebellion the world ever saw. 

Fred vS. — What I give up a CoUmel's commission, and l)e a. 
private soldier? 

Alice. — Yes; and be a man. 

Fred S. — Never ! I yet will hold a commission still higher 
than Colonel. But I must not stop to talk with you; I am going 
to start for Richmond at once, and you are going with me. So 
make haste. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, I am not going with you. 

Fred S. — It will be useless to resist as I have a guard at the 
door, to help me if necessary. 

Alice. — For shame, Fred Steel ! to bring your pack of villians; 
'tis enough that you show yourself here. Had you the whole 
Confederate army at your command, I would not go. 

Fred S. — [Advancing and seizing Alice by the arms.] Miss 



13 

Marks, you are in my power, and 1 will make you my wife, l>v 
fair means or foul. 

Mr. Marks enters cautiously from L., 3 E., advances to R., and seizes Steel 
and sends him to L. C. 

Ai.iCK. — [Rushing forward and embracing her father.] 
Father I Father ! 

Fkkd S. — Old man, I have come to make a wife of that girl, 
and am going to do it; if vou interfere vou are a dead man 
[Whistles.] 

Enter two guerrillas from R., 3 E., and seize Mr. Marks 
Hind him fast, hoys, and take him to camp. Do what you please 
\\ ith him. 

Marks. — I'Vcd .Steel. 1 am on your track. \'ou are doomed 
to die the death of a miserable, sneaking traitor. 

Fkkd .S. — [Pointing his revolver at Marks.] .Silence, you old 
fool, or Fll put a hole through you. 

.^LICK. — [Stepping in between Steel and her father.] Shoot I 
Shoot I if you dare, you villian. You are a coward; you dare 
not shoot. Stained with blood as your hands are, you dare not 
nmrder me. Injure one hair of my father's head, and you will 
not go from this house alive. 

FrkI) S. — Not quite so smart. \\>\i can't scare anyl)ody. 
[.\dvances.] Come, hurry up, the guard at the boat will think 
we are never coming. (.Advances and seizes Alice.) Come, 
boys, take the old man along. 

Ai.iCK. — Help I help! I can n(,)t, I will not go. Unhand 
me. villian. 

Enter Robert Davis and Sam at R.. 3 E., who at once seize the guard hold- 
ing Mr. Marks, disarm and drive them off the stage .ai R. Re-enter 
Sam, who points revolver at Fred Steel — Steel releases Alice. 

Alick. — Not yet, Sam, he is not tit to die. (Pointing to Fred 
.Steel.) (Jo, sir, your j^resence is loathsome. 
Exit Sam at R., 3 E. 

FkKl) S. — Who is this nigger and that escajicfl prisonor? 

.\:.I(K. — do, sir, and ask no questions. 

Frki) S — (Retiring slow ly.) Young lady you will i)e fear- 
fully sorry for this gross insult. You have defeated me, this time. 
I shall leave my Company in trusty hands, and they will deal 
with vou as you deserve. As for your old father there, he om 
Hof escape my vengeance — he must and shall yield to the will 
of Fred Steel's Rangers. He can not cross the river now, the 
bridges are all burned, and there is but one l)oat, and that 7i.<c 
use, and no one else. I have a trusty man in charge of it. so I 
w ill bid you good-by for the ]iresent. My revenge is sure. 



14 

Exit Fred Steel R., 3 E. While Fred Steel is reciting the above, he will have 
his revolver drawn, pointing down, Alice Marks watching him carefully. 
When he gets across the stage, she will draw her revolver very quick, 
and point it at Fred Steel and say, drop that revolver, drop it. Fred 
Steel throws his revolver down. 

Marks. — Gone — and Old Marks' curses follow you. 

Alice, — Dear father, what shall we do? I do not fear lYed 
Steel, or his gang, but I do feel so lonesome without you. Let 
us go to Knoxville. Mrs. Powers wishes to go at once, and we 
shall be so happy there. 

Marks. — No, daughter, I cannot go to Knoxville. I am go- 
ing north to find William. We can see each other hut a short 
time, for I must start to-night. 

Alice. — I can not say "no," although it is hard to part with 
you so soon. 

Marks. — Yes, I must go this very night ; h\xt how can I cross 
the river. 

Alice. — I will get a canteen of whisky and drug it. We will 
send Sam ahead, and he can get the guard drunk who has 
charge of their boat. Then you can cross the river, and very 
soon find friends, for you know just what house to go to for 
help over there. We will go at once and prepare for your de- 
parture. 

Marks. — Where is Sam? We must see him and make ar- 
rangements at once, for I am going to take him with me. 
"Saml" "Samuel!" 

Enter Sam at L., i E. 

Sam. — Yes, Massa, I's here. Whar is de big Steel, am he 
done gone? Dem grillus come close to de shed but they did'nt 
found de sojer 01 me. 

Marks. — Yes, Sam, Steel has gone, and you and I are going 
North to-night. We will go and see William and the soldiers. 
Don't you want to go? 

Sam. — Yes, Massa, I wants to go; but who will take keer of 
Miss AHce? 

Alice. — I am going to Knoxville to-morrow with Mrs. Pow- 
ers, to stay until father gets back. We have made all the ar- 
rangements. You and the soldier are to go first and get the 
boat at the river, and then father will come. He will go down 
the river about a mile, and take you and the soldier on board, 
and convey you to a place of safety. 

Sam. — Ps gwine for to be a sojer. Ps gvvine to be a Col- 
ored Regiment, and have a brass coat wid blue buttons all over 
it. I guess Mr. Lincum will be glad when he hears Ps coming. 



15 

I golly what would hah hecome of dis country if (lis yah niggah 
never had no mammy? 

Exit L., 3 E. 

Marks.— Come, Alice, I must be going, Sam will be readv in 
a few minutfs. 

Exit at L., 3 E. 



ACT I. 

Scene Thikd.— Enter Sam and Robert Davis at L., i E. 

Roh't L). — Come, Sam, hurry up; we shan't get there- to- 
night, unless you go faster. 

.>A.M.— I's hurryin' fast as I can. Vou see, Massa, I don't 
want to found any dem grillas, cause we hain't got no time to 
stop and kilt 'em. 

Lightning flashes, and thunder heard, which very much frightens Sam. 

Rob't D. — What ails you, Sam, hurry up, we shall get wet if 
we don't look out. It is going to rain, and I am afraid we won't 
get to the i)oat and get that whisky into the guard before Mr. 

Marks comes. (Exit at R., i E.) 

Enter .Mr. Marks and Alice at L , i E.— Liglitning and thunder at intervals. 

Alick. — ihis is a dreadful night, father; but I am happy to 
think you are to he safe soon. 

Makk.s. — Ves, I rejoice to think that I shall soon breathe the 
air of freedom. Sam is a tru.sty boy, and I have no fear from 
him. 

.Vi.icii. — I have no fear from him; but 1 am fearful that we 
have l)een watched l)y the guerrillas. Mist! I can hear them 
now. Oh ! let us hurry. (E.\it at R., 3 E.) 
Enter guerrillas at L., i E. 

S.\.\i S.— I am sure I saw Old Marks and Alice come out of 
the house, and come this way. We must have Old Marks this 
very night, and that nigger, too. I just want to get hold of his 
black carcass. I 11 fix him. See! (.Vll look out at R.) There 
goes Old Marks and Alice ! They are going for our boat. Look 
down to the river. That nigger has unloosed the boat I Where 



i6 

IS the guard ! They muse have killed him. Come on boys. ^All 

exit at R.) 

Shouts heard outside of "Shoot him, shoot the gal, and the nigger, if you 
can't take them alive." — One shot heard. — Scene rises showing Mr. 
Marks in boat crossing river. — He fires one shot and shouts, "Old Marks 
is safe!" — Alice enters at ist R. E., kneels, clasps her hands, exclaims: 
"Saved! Saved!" — Back scene rises showing Goddess of Liberty. — 
Tableaux — Saved. 



ACT II. 

Scene First. — Woods. — Soldiers on picket duty. — Pat O'Doherty, Sam 
Hannibal, Walter Greenwood, Mr. Marks, \\'illiam Marks, and others, 
— Song. — "Just Before the Battle." 

W.Ai.TKK (>. — ( orpDi-al, take the men and go out a little nearer 
the Rebel line, and should you see or hear anything that would 
lead you to think they intend to give us battle, report the same 
to me at once. 

P.vr. — Vis, L'urporal, fall in your min to onst, and Pat O'Do- 
herty will bring up the rare. I will be on the lookout that none 
ov um lag behind, and as sure as a Johnny spakes a loud word, 
rii be afther raportin' to Captain Grainwood. 

CoRi'OKAL. — Fall in, (iuard. 
Men all fall in except Mr. Marks and William Marks. 

.Sam H. — De Lord bress my soul, Massa (ireen\voo(i, is you 
gwine to hab a battle here? 

Walikk (i. — It looks so now, Sam; Init I thought you were 
anxinus to see us pitch into the rel)els. 

Sa.m. — Yes, Massa, an so I is; but can't I wait till de sun 
shines, it would be mighty dark seein' you shoot now. 

Pat. — Sam Hannibal, yes kin come along wid me, an I dont 
think ye nade be throbled wid fare while under me spishal pro- 
tecshin. 

SAM.-^^'ah, hah; dis yer chile ain't afeard to go wid you; 
you's a man after my own heart, and if de Rebble sojers come 
when we git dah, I guess dey will be sorry. 

Wai.ikk (i. — Yes, Sam, you go with Pat. I shall not need 
vou here. Now don't run or get frightened, but keep close to 
Pat. 
Corporal drills his squad a little, and marches them offat R., 3 E. 

M.\KKs. — Well, boys, here I am, free from the hands of Fred 
Steel's ban<I, and where I feel that I can strike one more blow 
at the heart of treason. 

Wii.i.iA.M. — Yes, father, I am happy to see you and have you 
so near me; but you are too old tt) try to march with us day by 
day, and suffer the exposure of a soldier's life. 

-Marks. — My dear boy, you little know what privations are. 



i8 

I have lived through two years of camp life such as would make 
you faint hearted. No, no, my boy, don't think that of me until 
you see me lag behind on the march. 

Walter G. — I guess you hadn't better try to talk camp life 
with your father, for he can tell you more about it than you 
know yourself. 

William. — I know he has had a hard time, and that is just 
the reason why I think he needs rest. But if he feels it his duty 
to go as a soldier, I have nothing more to say. 

Marks. — Just as long as Fred .Steel's band of guerrillas exist, 
just so long will Old Marks be on their trail — be it in the Army 
of the Potomac or on the mountains of East Tennessee. I feel 
that a blow here will do just as much good as to shoot one of 
his gang. 

Walter G. — Wheiever a blow is struck at treason, it is felt 
the whole length of the line. But, Mr. Marks, you are not free 
from guerrillas here. Our regiment has been harrassed by 
Mosby's gang for more than three weeks, and I fear more from 
them to-night than from the Rebel troops. Our regiment sleep 
on their arms night after night, to be in readiness for just such 
an attack. I gave the Corporal strict orders to keep a sharp 
lookout at the outer picket post, and if he should see any guer- 
rillas or anything that would lead him to think there was to be 
an attack, to send a man here at once. 

William. — Don't you think, Walter, that we had better try 
and get a little rest? We were up all last night, and have had 
but little sleep today. 

Walter G. — I have been thinking of that myself, for I know 
we have a trusty guard at the outer post, and we should be 
warned soon enough were we all asleep. 

Marks. — Hark ! I thought I heard the pickets tiring._ There 
goes another shot. Our boys are having a skirmish. 

Walter G. — If there is any trouble, we shall hear of it soon, 
for the (.'orporal will either send a man or come himself. 
Enter Pat O'Doherty and Sam Hannibal at R., 2 E., all out of breath. 

Pat. — Faith, an' yer honor, Laptain, an', an', the guerrillas is 
afther us, the whole of Mosby's army. And the Corporal towld 
me to be afther comin' here and telhn' yes at onst, and, by the 
howly Moses, sich a time as I have had a gettin' here. Now 
for the Colonel's tent. 
Exit Pat at L., 3 E., in baste. 

Sam. — Capum, dis heah niggah's gwine to keep close to Pat. 
(Exit L., 3 E.) 

Enter Robert Davis at R., 2 E., in haste wounded. 



19 

Rt)i!'r I). — Captain, we have been surprised by a gang of 
Mosby's guerrillas, our boys fought like tigers, but they are neai- 
ly all killed or taken prisoners. I got a little scratch, but that 
is nothing if we can only get away. 

Several stiot-s heard at R.— Three Union pickets back on the statje from R — 
Volley fired at R.— Union pickets fall, guerrillas rush in, Walter Green- 
wood and Mr. Marks are taken prisoners and taken off" stage at R. — Wil- 
liam Marks taken prisoner, hut is rescued by Union troops. — Guerrillas 
commence robbing the dead and wounded, making remarks about what 
they find, &;c.— Volley of musketry at L.— Some "of the Guerrillas fall, 
the rest retreat off" stage at R.— Enter Union Regiment at charge bayo- 
nets :'.t L., and form Tablftiu.\. 



ACT II. 

Scene Second.— Same as Scene i, Act 2.— Curtain. —No one to be seen — ' 
Soon Sam cautiously makes his appearance at L., loudly calling for Pat- 
rick O'Doherty, advances to center of stage and stops. 

S.A.M. — I aren't feard to b^ here alone, but Massa Greenwood 
tole me to keep with Patrick, l)ut (ie Lor bress my soul, I couldn't 
no more keep up wid him than 1 could cotch chain lightning bv 
de tail. He's a dreft'ul runnist. Jes so soon as he tell Massa 
("•reenwood dat de grillas was a comin he run for de Kernul's 
tent an I tole him, and 1 tried mighty hard to keep wid him, 
but wan't runnist nuff to keep nigh him, and fore dey got fru 
tighcin' I lost sight ob him, and n(jw whar is he? De 
grillas hain't got him prisoner, kase he didn't run in 
dat direction. He mus be round here s>)mewhar. Massa 
(ireenwood tole me to keep close to Patrick O'Doherty until he 
wanted me, and now I mus found him. (Loudly calling ) 

Patrick!) 'Doherty, Pos' Xo. 15th amendment, double 

(juick, march. 

Enter Pat at R., 2 E., slowly, with coat very badly torn, and otherwise gen- 
erally demoralized, but does not see Sam at first. 

P.AT. — Am I Patrick ( >'l)ohirety entirely, or am I his ghost? 
Strange that the boys should run and lave me alone. What the 
devil do they think to run and lave me alone to right the whole 
guerrilla army, and Samuel Hannibal, too, he was scart and run, 
and even after Capum (irainwood towld him to keep dost to 
me. Just a mi'iute ago I thought I heard Patrick O'Doherty's 
name mintioned. I wonder what it could mane? I must look 
around a little and see if I can rind anv of the bovs. I am not 



20 



at all frightened, and can whip all the Ribels in a batch, if they 
will only come on. 

Goes and looks out at L., when he hears a dog bark or a pig squeal, which 
frightens him, and he leaps back on the stage. — All this time Sam is very 
much pleased to see the fun go on, but does not make a loud noise. 

Pat. — It must be a bloody guerrilla, and I must be afther get- 
ting out of this intirely, or I shall be down to l.ibby prison be- 
fore I want to go. 

He turns and starts to run, but is so near Sam that he hits him hard enough 
to knock both do\^n. 

Pat. — Why the divil didn't ye tell me that ye wanted me to 
ground arms, and not he afther executing your orders until 
afther yer had given 'em. 

Sam. — Lor' bress my soul, Pat, how easy we did parade rest. 

Pat. — Divil a bit ov rest did I get, but plenty of parade. 

Sam. — Patrick, what made you run off and leave me when 
Massa Greenwood tole you to stay wid me? 

Pat. — Capum (jrainwood didn't tell me to stay wid you. He 
towld you to stay wid me. Now why didn't you obey orders? 
If yes keep on disobeying orders in that way, Capum Cirain- 
wood will be afther rejucing you to the ranks of a private, and 
then yes will have to obey orders. But come, Samuel, we must 
hnd the Regiment. I don't see how I come to get astray. 

Sam. — Patrick, Massa Greenwood and Massa Marks are both 
prisoners. I helped Massa William to get away, but I could not 
help de other two. I was feared de grillas would come l)ack ; 
but I 'spect dey am done gone. Massa WiUiam feels dreffulbad 
because his fader am taken prisoner. 

Enter three guerrillas, who chase Sam and Pat around the stage. — Curtain 
arops. 



ACT II. 

Scene Third. — Libby Prison. — Prisoners seated in groups on the floor, 
closely watched by Rebel guard. 

Rob't D. — Well, Johnny, what do you think of the rumor 
that is going round among the boys. They say there is to be an 
exchange of prisoners very soon. If so, you will be one to be 
exchanged, as you have been here longer than most of us. 
Then you can see your dear sister once more. 



21 

John Stkkl. — No, No, Robert, I cann»)t l)elieve the rumor, 
for weeks and months that story has been our only hope, but 
now it is too late for me, ver> soon I shall be beyond the suffer- 
ings of this life and be with mother in that heavenly army and 
marchinjT under the protection of the flag whose every star is a 
star of glory. IJut I should dearly love to see dear sister Clara 
once nu)re,'and only know where brother Fred is. Then if 1 
could see the glorious old stars and stripes once more it is all I 
ask. 

Rob't I). — Oh, Johnny, don't talk that way. This is the 
second time I have been in a rebel prison and I am not going 
to give up yet. Our boys have not forgotten us yet and art: do- 
ing all they can to get us out of here. I am going to get out 
of here and help take Richmond yet. 

Jt)HN S'lEEi,. — Robert, I wish I could be as cheerful as you 
are. l!ut here I have been for a long time; at first I was cheer- 
ful, and tried to have courage; but as the news of victory after 
victory for the Union army come to the ears of the Rebels, the 
harder they have been upon us, until nearly all that came here 
w ith me have starved to death, or been shot for some sligiit 
offence. 

Rkhki. (Ir.vRi), Oko. Mack. — (^Striking John.) Shut up yer 
head, you detestable Yankee, yer no need ter come ter war if 
yer hadn't wanted ter. 

John Steki.. — I know that, sir; but I woulrl not stay away 
when such as vou were engaged in trying to destroy the liberty 
our grandfathers fought foi. I have but a short time to live, 
l)ut with my dying breath will I rejoice that I have remained 
true to mv dear dead mother's last recjuest of loyalty to the glo- 
rious old flag. 

M.\KKS.— Brave boy; should you live to get out of this hell 
hole, vou will be proud to sav that, tempted by the devil as you 
were,'lovaltv triumphed, while A^ (pointing to Rebel guard,) 
taints the very earth with treason, and to his dying day can not 
forget that he has been a traitor to the old flag. 

W.Ai.TKK (i.— Boys, keep up good courage. We shall not 
stop here long, starved and al-)used as we are. These wretches 
can not keep us here always. There is a good time coming, 
and that soon. 

Rkh. Gk'). M.— ^■es, you-uns talk well, don't yer? But I 
reckon you-uns will have some o'yer pluck taken out of yer 'fore 
night, for we-un's new commander has come, and he won't 
stand none of ver Yankee slang. He's a goin* through the 



22 

boardin' house purty quick, and I rackon most of you-uns will 
sing a different song when you see him. 
Enter Fred Steel R., i E. 

Frkd S. — Hello, Yanks ! I reckon you are all glad to see 
me, and I suppose the guard told you I was coming. Xdw I 
waiit you all to behave yourselves, and I won't hurt you; but if 
you don't mind you will be sorry. I shall not have any canr'les 
burned in the night, as you might burn us all up, nor shall I 
have any reading going on, for I want you to keep thinking of 
your guilty crimes and what you are here for. [Looking to the 
Rel)el guards.] Now, guards, do your duty like men, and if 
vou see any of the Yanks disobey orders, either shoot 'em or let 
me know of it, and I will take care of them. [Looking to John 
Steel.] Here, you villain, what are you doing? Didn't I just 
give order not to have any reading going on. Give me that 
book. 

John S. — Please let me keep it; it won't do me any harm. 
It is the last gift of my dear mother who is dead. It is a Bible, 
sir, and I am sure there can be no harm in my reading it. 

Fred S. — Give me that book, you mudsill. 

John S. — Please let me keep it. I will not read it any more. 
I will keep it in my bosom, and no one shall see it. It has my 
name written in it by dear dead mother. She wrote it just as I 
started for the war, and told me always to keep it. So please 
don't take it away. I can not give it up. 
Fred Steel knocks John down, takes the Bible and throws it away. 

Fred S. — There, Yanks, now see if you can obey orders. 

Walter G. — Fred Steel, not content with murdering the loyal 
people of East Tennessee, you seek this prison pen and practice 
your hellish designs on the weakest of us. 

Fred S. — Who speaks my name? What! Walter (ireen- 
wood? 

Walter G. — Yes, \Yalter Greenwood speaks your vile name. 

Fred S. — How glad I am to see you. How is Miss Alice 
Marks? You don't see her very often now, do you. Had you 
the least pride of a man you never would have crossed my path 
and stolen her from me. I once loved that girl, now I hate 
her; and now I swear it, she shall be my wife out of pure re- 
venge. 

Walter (j. — Fred Steel, I care not for your taunting words. 
As for Miss Marks, I never talked to her of love, except of her 
love for the old flag, that same flag you swore to defend, but 
which you now trample in the dust. W^ith (iod's help I hope 
soon again to be under its protec.ion. 



23 

!-"ki:I) S. — Walter (jreenwO'>fi, you are in my power and in my 
w ay. It was (jnly a few weeks ago that I bid farewell to your 
frien-is in East Tennessee. And I told them should you happen 
here, I would use the greatest care that you do not trouble the 
Southern cause any more. So prepare yourself [drawing a re- 
volver,] for 1 am going to lilow your brains out. 

W.M.iKK (i. — Fred Steel, I thank (iod I am prepared to meet 
my Maker; but you are not the agent that will send my soul in- 
to eternity. 

Fked S. — [Raising his revolver and taking aim.] What, 
what do you say, you spy? 

Walter (i. — Fred Steel, you are a coward, and just as sure 
as you shoot, these starved men will tear you in pieces. We 
are human, and only ask to he treated as prisoners of war. We 
have borne our lot patiently, and have not been almsed beyond 
endurance until you stepped your hendish foot in here. Before 
we will submit to your outrages, there is not a man here l)ut 
will give his life in defence of his rights. 

Fked S. — (Greenwood, I acknowledge to being a little too 
hasty. I now announce that Walter Greenwood, the Union spy, 
will be shot at sunset to-morrow. Now, you Yanks, see if you 
can behave yourselves. I shall come and see you once every 
day, and I hope there won't anything happen to mar your hap- 
piness. As it is getting late you inust all retire, (iuards, keep 
good watch to-night, and to-morrow we will see some fun. 

M.\KK.s. — (io now, yougueirilla, you have done enough. You 
are not content with murdering my wife and child, but now seek 
the ruin of my only daughter. Old Marks is yet alive, so be- 
ware. If 1 (lie by your hands Clod will avenge my wrongs. 

FkeI) S. — Old Marks? How came you here? You thosght 
you had got out of my jiower when you stole my boat, didn't 
you? But fortune favors me at every step, and if you were en- 
gaged in a just cause, you never would have been so unfortun- 
ate. 

M.VRKs. — I am proud to say that I am fortunate, and that 
you are unfortunate in having such a black heart. I would not 
exchange places w ith you to-day. 

Fki:1) S. — C)ne more word out of your head, and I will blow 
your brains out. 

.Marks. — Fred Steel, I am prepared for that. You have done 
nothing else l>ut murder for more than two years. It would 
take a man a life time to record all your vile acts, and do them 
justice. 

Fred Steel draws a revolver and fires at Mr. Marks. — The ball only knocks 
Marks' cap off, but hits John Steel in the neck. 



24 

John S. — [Screaming and falling forward.] Oh! I'm shot I 
I'm shot ! 

Marks. — Murderer! Vou are not satisfied with taunts and 
abuses, but must take the life of your own brother, who has been 
ashamed to own you. First, you take his Bible away, and not 
content with that, deliberately shoot him — and your angel 
mother looking down on you. Go, sir, before I kill you. I 
will tear vou in pieces if you do not take your vile carcass out 
of my presence. (Advancing to front and center of stage where 
John Steel lies and lifting him partly up.) Johnny, Johnny, 
dear, dear, Johnny, have you got to die and leave us. 
John Steel, who has been raised from the floor, leans his head on Mr. Marks' 
bosom, who is behind John. — Walter Greenwood on the left. Fred Steel 
on the right near John. — Prisoners all gather around John. 

JoJiN S. — Don't talk so Mr. Marks, he is my own brother. 
He didn't mean to shoot me. Had I told him who I was he 
would have been kind to me. Please hold my head for me. It 
is getting dark and my head is dizzy. 

Fred S. — .Are you my brother John? Is mother dead? 

John S. — Yes, I am your brother; but very soon you will be 
alone. My strength is fast failing. Dear mother is dead, ^he 
died soon after we reached Boston. I enlisted at once on ar- 
riving in Boston, and soon after coming to the front I heard of 
her death. Her last request to you was to remain true to the 
old flag. 

Fred S. — It is too late now. I am a Colonel in the Confed- 
erate army, and if you had told me who you were when I first 
came in, I should have taken you out of here at once. I didn't 
mean to shoot you. I am sorry I did. 

John S. — Don't feel bad, brother. I shall soon be l^etter off. 
It was only an act of kind Providence to relieve me from my 
tortures. I should have lived but a few days. I will tell mother 
that you did not mean to shoot me, and that you are sorry. 
Come nearer, brother, I can not see you, it is so dark. Mo' her 
is happy, and wants me to come to her. I am coming, mother. 
Prisoners all point fingers in scorn at Fred Steel, who stands at R. of stage 
with folded arms. — Back scene rises showing angel with arms outstretch- 
ed toward John Steel. — Tableaux — Mustered out. 



25 

ACT II. 

Scene Foi'KTH. — Outside of Libby Prison — Jacob K. doing guard duty, 
walking in front of Prison. 

Jaojb K. — Val, I i.sh here in Richmond. I ish put here to 
keep ilat Yankee soldiers from getting avay. I vish I may hopen 
dat doors and Jet de po<jr feUah out, it ish too pad. All dey do 
ish to tight mit de flag vat dey alvays l6ved, and vat all de peo- 
ples all over de world don't like to meddle mit. My brudder 
Hans, he fights mit Seigel — I vish 1 mij^ht. Mabby I gets a 
chance to go to my brudder, den I told him how de poor poys 
surter here, den de Yankee harmy comes und let um all free. 
Dat ish gi'ot. I never hurt no Yankee soldiers and I never vil. 
My gal she ashamed I tights mit Jeff Davis. I told her I am 
shamed too; but ven I gets avay den I tights mit the American 
heagle, den 1 feels petter. Hurrah mit de flag vat has got all 
de stars und stripes. 

He sees Corporal of the Guard coming. — He goes up to the prison door and 
appears to be talking to the prisoners. 

Jacob K. — You just pe quit mit your noise or I makes a hole 
mit some of you. 
Enter Corporal at R., i E. 

CoKFUKAL, Gku. Mack. — Jacob, vvhat is all this fuss about? 

Jacob K. — Oh, it ish all right, dem Yanks is just having a fort 
of July, and I just tell dem. to hush up. 

Ct)KPuK.\L. — That is right, Jacob, make a hole through the 
first one you-uns get a chance at. I wish you-uns was going to 
stay here longer, for I know you-uns is faithful. 

Jacob K. — Val I tries to do my tuty, put I goes avay to-mor- 
row pack t(j Sam Smit in East Tennessee. 1 goes putty near 
fair my frow lives, (.\side: Ven I gets one.) So I just asks 
you of you gets me a furlough. 

CoRi'okAi.. — I don't knov\- Jacob, cdiout that; we-unsneed all 
the help we-uns got, and Sam Smith is having a hard time. 
There is six good men going with you-uns and I flon't think it 
will answer to let you-uns go now. 
Exit Corporal at R.. i E. 

J.A.CUB K. — It ish all up mit me now. I goes pack mit six 
goot men to keep guard over me, so I gets no chance to go mit 
the Yankees not yet, put I goes dat ish sure. [Looks out at 
R.] Hullo, who the tuyful ish dish? ( )h, it is Aunt Nancy 
with some more tings for de poor soldiers. Goot old soul, how 
the poor poys love her. They would starve to death pefore 
now if it wan't f<jr her. 



26 

Enter woman R., 2 E., closely veiled, with a basket of crackers, newspapers, 
&c. — Guard takes it and passes the contents into thepiison. — Gives bas- 
ket back to the woman. 
Jacob K. — Aunt Nancy, you must look out to-morrow night 

who gets the pasket for I goes vay in the morning, and de poor 

sojers would feel so pad if Aunt Nancy should pe caught. So 

1 )ok out. Goot-py, Got pless you. 

Shakes hands. — Exit Nancy at R., 2 E. — Looking at his watch. 

Jacob K. — It ish almost vun o'clocks, then I goes off und 

some other feller comes. They alwa)^ puts me here since I 

comes to Richmond cause they knows I am faithful. 

Enter Fred Steel at R., 2 E. 

Fred S. — Well, Jacob, is everything quiet to-night? 

J.\coB K. — Yah, things ish alvays quiet when I am on guard. 

Fred S. — I am acting as officer of the guard to-night, you 

will soon be reUeved and then you come to my head-quarters, 

as I want to give you some directions to take to Captain Sam 

Smith. I shall be back to Tennessee in about three months. 

(Exit Steel at L., 2 E.) 

Union prisoners begin to put their heads up out of the ground, look around, 
dodge back, and finally one crawls out and creeps oft stage at L., 3 E., 
when guard cries out : Post No. 7, one o'clock and all is well. — More 
prisoners come up and creep offstage at R. and L. — After they have all 
come up, ihe relief comes around and relieves the guard. — As they pass 
off they discover the tunnel and at once give the alarm, when all is con- 
fusion. — Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Scene First.— Woods.— Guerrilla Camp.— Walter Greenwood disguised as 
Joe Blake, a guerrilla. 

Fred S. — Well, boys, I am glad to l)e with you again. I did 
not like Libby at all, and resigned my position there to return 
to these mountains once more. 

Jacoh K. — Yah, and we ish glad too, the poys say they have 
had tall times since we wash away. Since I comes pack we 
goes hungry some time, mabby py and py we found some Yan- 
kees house den we gets some grub. 

Sam S. — Yes, that's so; we haven't spotted any of them Yanks 
for more'n a week, and when you was liere we got plenty of 
chances at 'em. 

Jacob K. — Yah, dat ish so, we have been thinking of giving 
up this company and go mit hve or six together and try it that 
vay, but just so soon as we gets all ready den we runs mit a 
squad dem Yanks, and it takes us all to right mit um, and so we 
keeps together and keeps righting, and I found more den half 
the men vat we had when we goes avay kilt, so there's onlv a 
few left. 

Sam S. — I tell yer what 'tis, Colonel, we made money when 
we was up by Cumberland (iap, but after you went avvay the 
Yanks soon drove us out, and they have kept us on the move 
most of the time since. But we have got lots of horses since 
you have been away. 

Frkd S. — I am sorry to hear that so many of my brave boys 
are dead ; I see some strange faces here, but dare say they are 
all right, and ready to right for our black flag and strike a blow 
for Southern homes. 

Sam S. — \u\i see, Colonel, we was all so glad to see you back 
that we forgot to say anything to you about it. Here is [oe 
Blake, just come from the \'ankee army. He tells us that there 
will be hot work here soon. 

Fked S. — 1 knew that the Yanks were after us before, and 
they are bound to follow us until they shoot us all, so we must 
be on watch for them. 

Ji»K Bi.akk. — I only left ilurnsides army last week, and 1 tell 
you you have got to be sharp or they will go for you. 



28 

Sam S. — IjV the way, Colonel, what ever became of that gal 
you used to think so much of and was going to marry? 

Fred S. — She is in Knoxville now, and we must plan some 
way to get hold of her before Burnside gets there, f(jr Old Marks, 
his son, and that villain, (greenwood, are all with Burnside, and 
of course when they get to Knoxville they will hnd her and send 
her North, and that will be the last of her, as far as I am con- 
cerned. 

Sam S. — Where is your mother now. Colonel, didn't she go 
to Knt)xville? 

Fred S. — Yes, she was there, l.ut just before the war com- 
menced she and my brother John went to Boston. She died 
there. She was full of Yankee patriotism and had a good deal 
to say about the old flag, the land our fathers fought for, and 
all that sort of stuff. John was just like her, and always said 
that if there was a war he should go North and enlist. He did 
so and died in Libby prison. .My sister Clara, I suppose, is still 
in Knoxville, although I have not heard from her for more than 
a year. 

Joe B. — What about that gal. Get that fixed up some way. 
May be we can have a little fun out of it. Sam told me all 
about the old man Marks, so I know what you want. If we 
can only plan to get hold of her. 

Yrfa) S. — ril tell you, boys, what I think FU do; I will dis- 
guise myself and go to Knoxville and Hnd oui all I can. Then 
we shall know just what to do. 

Sam S. — No, Colonel, I don't think that will answer, fur we 
are so near Knoxville that I am afraid they will mistrust you, 
and we shall all be gobbled up. You would have tt) be there 
two or three days. We must do something that won't take up 
so much time, for old Burnside is north of Loudon now. 

Joe B. — I have it; we will write the gal a letter and sign 
Walter (Greenwood's name to it. You see she knows that he is 
with Burnside and she will thiiik it is all right. 

Fred S. — What will you write? 

Joe H. — Why most anything that will bring her out of Knox- 
ville. [Writing.] Let me see. [Reads aloud.] 

" Miss Alice Marks : Burnside will be in Knoxville next week. Meet 
me on Saturday in the woods just north of the four corners on the road that 
leads from Knoxville to Strawberry Plains. You may think this a strange 
request, but you can be of great service to the Northern troops, and I know 
you will esteem it a privilege to help them. Meet me at sunset. There is a 
loyal family near by with whom I have made arrangements for you to stop 
over night. Come'alone, as we do not know whom to trust, and if you take 
any one with you we may have trouble. 

Your Iriend and protector, W. Greenwood. 



29 

Ji)K ]]. — There, I reckon that will he sweet enough. 

1'kkd S. — Ciooii I I never should have thought of that. Now, 
Sam. will you take the joli of giving that letter to Miss Alice? 
Find where Mrs. Powers lives, give Alice the letter, and come 
away before she has a chance to read it, as she may wish to ask 
you ([uestions. 

S.\M S. — Yes, Colonel; just the job I want, and I think the 
letter will luring her. I'll be back before morning, and Sundav 
I suppose we shall have a wedding. 
E.xit Sam Smith at L., 2 E. 

Frki) S. — Now, boys, four or Hve of you go up to Strawberry 
Plains and see how things look. We back Saturday noon, sure. 
Jacob you sort of look out for things as you know the country 
so well. 

Exit all at R. — Tableaux — Floral Decorations. ' 



ACT III. 

Scene Second. — Mrs. Powers' home in Knoxville. — Mary Powers reading 
a paper. — Mrs. Powers and Alice variously employed. 

M.VKV. — How dreadful it is to read of the sacritice of so many 
lives, the destruction of so much property, and the desolation of 
the country In- civil war. When will it end? When will the 
South return to its allegiance? 

Mk.s. p. — Mary, we have much to be thankful for. Our little 
home has been laid waste, but our lives have been spared, and 
we have found dear friends here. The war must close soon. 
The South can hold out but a little longer, and then we will re- 
turn to our home and see what we can do toward repairing the 
waste of war. 1 fervently hope, too, that .\lice may have her 
father and brother restored to her in safety. 

.\1.ICK. — Yes, my dear friends, it is my constant prayer that 
mv dear father and brother will return alive. Oh, what anguish 
1 have suffered during this dreadful war. Hut I am thankful 
that my lot is no worse. How many loyol mountaineers of East 
Tennessee have gone to their long home. Still they were iirm, 
and even today there are men on the mountains anxiously 
awaiting Burnside's arrival to strike a blow for loyalyty. 

Mrs. p.— Thank God the time has about come, for Burnside « 



30 

will soon be here. O, how many prayers of thanksgiving will 
go up to heaven when the fife and drum of the Northern army 
shall be heard in Knoxville. How many poor souls will lie 
ready to almost worship the soldiers who set them free from this 
little else than prison. 

Alice, — History will never record the many, very many valu- 
able lives sacrificed in oui state. There is no section of the 
country where there have been such mean, contemptible, blood- 
thirsty schemes resorted to as have here been practiced by the 
guerrillas. They are not subject even to the lax military rule of 
the so called Confederacy, and so they execute their wicked 
deeds without hindrance or fear of punishment, murdering little 
children, women, aged men, in fact every one unfortunate 
enough to fall into their hands. 

Mrs. p. — When the Union army comes there will be a differ- 
ent order of things. It will be a happy moment when the loyal 
veterans march through our streets, the bands playing the tunes 
we used to hear, and the old flag floating over all. Whataload 
will be lifted from the true hearts of Tennessee when that time 
comes. Let us have a song. 

Marj' Powers or Alice Marks sings 'The Star Spangled Banner." — If Alice 
sings, Mary will go to the door and admit Clara Steel, also repeat the 
lines following, substituting the word Alice for Mary. 

Mrs. P, — Yes, long may it wave. Those words never seemed 
so dear to me as they have since the dark days of this terrible 
war. 
Raps heard at the door at L. — Alice goes and opens it and Clara Steel enters. 

Alice. — Dear Clara, I wish you had been here just now. 
Mary has been singing that dear old song, "The Star Spangled 
Banner," and I believe it never sounded so sweet to me as now. 

Cl.\RA. — It is a soul inspiring tune. Howl long to hear it 
played again by some martial band. 

Mary. — You will not have long to wait, for we have heard, 
very reliably, that the Northern troops will be here within a 
week. 

(^LARA. — Happy shall I be to see them. But Fred, alas 1 will 
not be with them. Oh, if I could only see him long enough to 
tell him of mother's dying request, he could not continue in his 
present wicked work. I fear he is dead. The last I heard of 
him was through the papers, that he was in command of Libby 
prison. Then I read that he had gone from there. Where can 
he be now? 

Alice — You may yet see him. I do not think he is dead. 
He is your brother, I know, and as such you love him, and 
♦ would be happy to see him give up his wicked course. 



31 

Raps heard at the door at L. — Mary goes and opens it. — Enter Sam Smith. 

Sam S. — Is Miss Alice Marks to home? 

Ai.iCK. — Yes, sir, that is my name; what do you wish? 

S.\.M S. — [Handing her a letter.] Here is a letter I was re- 
quester! to deliver to you, and to no one else. Something pri- 
vate, ain't it? [Exit Sam Smith at L., 2 E.] 

Alice opens the letter and reads it to herselt several times, then looks around 
the room as if to see if any one is listening, when she reads it aloud. 

Ai.iCK. — [Laying the letter down.] What can that mean? 
'.Vhat can he want of me? Why it is nearly five miles there, 
and he wants me to come to-night. It is very strange. Where 
is the man who brought the letter? Mrs. Powers, what shall I 
<lo? 

Mrs. p. — It is very strange. I don't see why he didn't come 
himself. Let me see the letter. [Takes the letter.] It looks 
like Mr. Greenwood's writing. I should almost be afraid to go, 
but still if you can be of any service to the Union troops -you 
should surely go. 

Alice. — iJut he wants me to go alone. 

Cl.\RA. — You must not go alone. I will go with you. We 
will each take a pistol for use in case of need. I can conceal 
myself near you, and be ready to help in case you need assist- 
ance. 

.Vlick. — I wish you would go with me, Clara, I am afraid to 
go alone. It will do no harm, as Walter's caution was only 
given through fear of being betrayed. He is very careful, and 
neglects no precaution. He has always taken care of himself 
when he has been alone. He has been many times within the 
Rebel lines, and never has- been detected yet. 

Mrs. p. — Well, girls, you must make haste. It is a long dis- 
tance there, and you want to walk slow. 

-Vi.iCE.-j-Let me get my things, and we will be off at once. I 
almost dread to go, the country is so full of guerrillas; but they 
w ill not dare come so near Knoxville. 
Exit all at L., 3 E. — Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Scene Third. — The same as Scene First, Act III. 

FrSi) S. — [Walking back and forth.] I don't see what keeps 
Sam so long. He said that he would be back before morning. 



32 

and he has been gone three days already. I fear he has been 
gobbled up by some of 15urnside's scamps. [Drinks.] 

Jacob K. — Yah, it ish so. Mabby he run off mit your gal. I 
guess not, he be here fore long. You see. Colonel, the Yanks 
is all round, and a veller must look hout or he gets gobbled up. 
Then you know there is lots and lots of these Mountaineers that 
ish Yankee clear through to the pack pone. 

Joe B. — Yes, Jacob, it is a fact. An 1, although we claim that 
we are all right, we must confess that the people around these 
mountains have suffered more than in any section of the coun- 
try. You know we hear almost every day of their leaving the 
mountains to join the Northern army. 

Freu .S. — A man would think you were a full-blooded Yan- 
kee to hear you talk. 

Joe B. — I can't help that. I can not but admire their pluck. 

Jacob K, — Mine Gott in himmel vat ish dat nois. I hear 
som'ethings. Mabby somebody comes. 

They all take their pistols as if ready for action. — Enter Sam Smith at L. 

Sam S. — Wall, boys, did you think I'd got nabbed? Not yet; 
but I did have to work purty sharp some of the time, and I don't 
want to go galing any more, I never found her till today, and 
I hurried right back for fear she wuuld be here hrst. I don't 
blame you. Colonel, for wanting that gal; but I reckon I should 
rather get her by courtin', for she looks to me as if she would 
take care of No. i, let her be where she would. I stopped at 
the door and listened just as long as I dared, and she read the 
letter to um all, and she is comin'. 

Joe B. — Did you hear her say anything about the writing? 

Sam S. — Yes, the women folks all looked at it, and they said 
it was Walter (Greenwood's writing. So 1 'sposed he wrote let- 
ters to her, and that the Colonel's chance was purty slim. 

Fred S. — Not so slim after all. If she comes here to-night 
we will make her a prisoner, and to-morrow I will start for 
Longstreet's army, where I can find a chaplain without any 
trouble. We will be married, and then go to England. I think 
by that time she will be humbled enough to behave herself and 
treat me as a devoted husband should be treated. Here's fun. 
[Drinks.] Let's all take something. [Drinks.] 

Sam S. — I glory in your spunk, Colonel; but don't you think 
that plan is more easily made than executed ? 

Fred S. — What is there to hinder carrying it out? 

Sam S. — I reckon Burnside wdll l)e in Knoxville next week, 
and if you start for Longstreet's army you may get into Burn- 



33 

side's. If you do, I reckon you won't Find any chaplain to do 
your splicin'. 

Kkkd S. — Don't you worry al)out me. Why don't vou take 
soniethin<j? [I)rinks.] 

JAC>>Hl\.. — Yah, das ish so; we all jietter take sometings. 
[r)rinks.] Vou vellers petter stop dish talk and make some ar- 
rangements pout meeting mit dose gal. 

I'"ri:|) S. — ^'es, boys, we must tix that up right off, for it is al- 
most time she was here. 

JoK 15. — It won't do for us all to stay here. She may see us 
before we see her, and then she won't come. I don't think she 
will fall in love with us anyway. 

FkkI) S. — That's so, and I hardly know how to arrange it. 
All hands had better take something. [Drinks.] 

JoK li. — Sdine of the l)oys ought to be on the lookout for 
Yanks. 

Fkkd S. — 1 here are three gangs out now; but we had better 
have some boys down on the Knoxville pike — we saw some Yanks 
there today. .Sam, you take four or five of the boys, go 
down near the pike and stay there until I signal for you. Joe 
and I will stay here and take care of the gal. [Exit Sam and 
Jacob at R., 2 K.] Now Joe take something to keep your cour- 
age up. 
.'■•teel drinks, Joe refuses. — Steel begins to stagger as if drunk. 

Vkva) S. — Now we will hide behind these trees until she gets 
here. Then I w ill come out and make my business known. If 
she refuses, I will signal you, and you can rush out behind her, 
stop her mouth and then we can manage her as we please. 
Exit all at F., 3 E. — Enter Alice at L., 2 E. 

.Vi.iCK. — This must be the place. No one here — I am not late, 
(an it be possible that I am deceived? I did not like the looks 
of those men dow n by the pike, and I am afraid there is foul 
])lay intended. They did not see me, however, and do not know 
I am here. What shall I do? I dare not try to go back to- 
night, it is so far. I dare not cry for help, for fear of guerrillas 
Why did he not come as he said he would? 

Enter Fred Steel at R., 3 E, advances cautiously behind Alice. She contin- 
ues talking. 

If he had wanted to see me, why didn't he come to Knoxville? 
He knew I was there, I have written him often. Oh, what shall 
1 do? Why is he not here? 

I-RKI) S. — My dear, I am here ready to protect you. 

.\I.ICK. — Fred Steel, you here? and have I been led from home 
by y(jur fiendish plottings? Lost, lost I just as I was ai)out to 



34 

see my vision of free lorn realized, you cross my path to ruin all. 
Why do you torment me mure? Are you not human, or have 
you lost all l^ut the form of man? Leave me; the very sight of 
you is loathsome. Your foul breath is tilled with rum and trea- 
son. Go, sir, I say, before I stain my hands with blood. 

Fred S. — Alice, this is the only way I could manage to meet 
you. I have made up my mind to marry you. Once more I 
ask you, will you be my wife? 

Alice. — Vou know better than to ask me such a question. 
How dare you talk so to me? 

Fred S. — Vou talk very foolish, Miss Alice. I have a com- 
pany of brave boys near by who will assist me if necessary. 

Alice. — Brave man ! Forge a letter, lead me far away from 
friends, and then tell me that you have a company of men to 
make me consent to marry you. Fred Steel, if you had the 
whole Rebel army at your command, I would not i:onsent. 
[Fred Steel advances.] Uon't you come near me, you drunken 
coward. I have a pistol, and can use it if necessary. I would 
shoot you as soon as I would a snake if it were not for shedding 
human blood. 

Fred S. — Come, come, Alice, don't talk so; I don't want to 
hurt you. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, you need not try to frighten me, I am not 
at all afraid of you nor your whole gang. 
Fred S. — Young lady, I have fooled with you long enough. 

Whistles — Joe Blake enters at R., 3 E., and seizes Alice's arms. — Alice 
makes resistance. 

Free S. — Now, Miss Marks, we'll see whether you'll marry 
me or not. 

Alice. — Merciful heaven I is it possible that you will stoop to 
such baseness? But why not? you murdered my mother, and 
even took the life of your own brother. Yet, Fred Steel, I 
never will marry you. 

Fred S. — Got lots of grit, haven't you? Hope you will feel 
better by and by. 

Alice. — Oh! that fatal letter; why was I so deceived? Oh, 
God! what have I done that I should suffer so? Why perse- 
cute me more? Let me die rather than fall into the power of 
such a base man. 

Fred S. — Nhut up your head, young lady, or I will send you 
after your mother. 

Alice. — Do, for mercy sake, shoot me, and not torment me 
more. 

Enter two guerrillas at R., 2 E.,\vith Mr. Marks a prisoner. 



35 

A[JCK. — Father, Father! save me. 

F'kki) S. — Clood, good ! now I can carry out my revenge. 

Marks — Once more you have me in your pt)\ver; once na)re 
you are sure of my lilood. But there is a (lod in heaven, and 
he will not see you j^rosper. Let me go to my daughter. 

Fi<i:i) S. — Wait a few minutes, old man, anrl cool off a little. 
Mere, take something to steady your nerves. [( )ffers Marks his 
canteen.] 

M.VRK.s. — Stained with murder anfl treason as your soul is, 
you now seek comfort in rum. l)etestable villain, were I free, 
I would kill you on the spot. 

Fu.:i) S. — Hoys, hind him fast, and go hack to your p(jst, I 
will take care of him and his gal. [Ciuerrillas bind Mr. .Marks, 
and exit at R., 2 K.] Now, old man, one word with you and I 
am (lone. [.Vll the time after this Steel shows signs of being 
drunk] I sent for your gal to come and see me this evening, 
and she has embraced the opportunity, but she don't care to 
emiirace me; in fact she treats be very unbecomingly. But I 
am willing to let all pass if you will make her consent to marry 
me. What do you say? 

M.ARi'.s. — If I were not bouni., you would not dare talk to me 
in that way. There is tht^ girl, let her answer for herself. 

l-RED S. — It's all Hxed up between me and the gal. We are 
going to get married in the morning. 
Enter Sam Smith in haste at R , 2 E. 

Sam S. — Say, Colonel, you'll have to wind up this here court 
in' right off. A liig squad of Yanks is comin' down the pike, 
and that infernal Dutchman has run off to 'em, and tool, four or 
live fellows with him. 

I'kkI/ S. — All right, Sam, get the horses saddled and have 
the boys ready as soon as possible. [Exit Sam at R., 2 E.] 
Now, old man, the quickest way I can get rid of you is to blow 
your l)rains out, and then I can get along with the gal; so jire- 
pare yourself. 

Ai.iCK. — Murderer, you dare not harm him. If you shoot 
him, you must be. 

Fki:i> S. — Shut up, or I will lix you both. 
Enter Clara Steele at L., i E. 

Clara. — Oh, Fred I my brother, you here, and engaged in 
such work? Don't injure them. If you only knew how kind 
.Mice has been to me since mother died, you would not. 
^ Fkkh S. — How came you here? This is no place for you. 

Ci.AKA. — I came with Alice, to bear her company. 

Fki i. S.— You had better go out by that house [pointing,] 
and Slav a few moments; I will come and see you soon. 



36 

Clara. — Please let me stay with Alice; she is my best friend. 

Fred S. — Go out there and stay, I tell you. [Whistles and 
enter Sam Smith at R.J Sam, go with my sister out by that 
house, and stay till I come. [Exit Sam with Clira, she crying ] 
Now, Old Marks, if you have anything to say, hurry up, [Points 
revolver at Marks.] 

Joe K. — (Releasing Alice and rushing up to Fred Steel and 
knocking revolver out of his hnad.) Fred Steel, you dare not 
murder that man. (Pulling off false whiskers and hair.) 

Fred S. — What, Walter Greenwood, the Union spy. Traitor 
in disguise, you too, shall die. 

Steel tries to get hold of his dirk, but Greenwood seizes his arm; they have a 
desperate scuffle, and finally Greenwood is overpowered and thrown 
down at R. — Steel holds him by the throat with his left hand, draws his 
dirk with his right, and holds it high above his head as if to stirke. 

Fred S. — Walter Greenwood, once we were friends, but when 
you crossed my path, our friendship was at an end. Filled with 
revenge, I at first wreaked my vengeance on 01 1 Marks and his 
family. I have longed to kill you, and n;nv my revenge is near 
completion. Soon you will be food for dogs, an*! Old Marks 
and Alice shall follow you. I swear it I 

Alice draws a pistol and shoots Steel, then rushes to her father and embraces 
him. — Greenwood rises to his feet and comes to Alice with outstretched 
arms. 

Walter G. — AHce, forgive me, I wrote that letter to induce 
Fred Steel and his villains to come here. They are all captured 
now, and you are only surrounded by friends. (Scene may end 
here.) 
Steel staggers to his feet. — Blood streak seen on Steel's forehead. 

Freu S.— Come on, boys, come on; here is Old Marks' house; 
kill him; no, let him be; see the old woman; she has got blood 
on her face; she is coming this way; go back, don't, don't touch 
me; see, your blood is on my hands. Oh, kill those snakes, 
kill them; I can't do anything, my hands are slimy with blood; 
don't let John come any nearer, he wants to kill me. See the 
snakes there; he is going to jump; don't desert me boys; why 
don't you help me? Go back, old woman, you have followed 
me long enough, let me l)e. Oh, where can I go? I can't get 
away; see, the demons are about me; they arc trying to carry 
me off; don't touch me. l>oys, boys, why don't you help, help, 
help? Go away; see Satan has got me by the throat; take him 
off, get the blood off my hands. (Falls heavily.) 
Tableaux — Death to slavery. 



37 

ACT III. 

Scene Fourth. — Camp Scene. 

(.'()!,. Bakkkr. — ^The time has ariived, buys, when you are to 
he free of the United States service, and this is our last day in 
camp. So enjoy yourselves as best you can; we are not at the 
front, and no fear of a surprise. 

P.vr O'D. — Faith, Colonel, and why didn't yes tell me that 
two years ago. 

Col. 11 — A good deal has been accomplished in that time, 
Patrick. We could not spare a man then, so have a good time 
now. We shall soon get our discharge papers, and in the morn- 
ing we will be off for home. 

Jacob K. — Dash ish very goot, I gets my discharge from the 
army of the United States. I don't get my discharge from Sam 
Smit. I tinks I helps the Union poys petter ven I vas mit the 
South, l)ut I don't likes the name. 

Sa.m Hannibai,. — (iuess I won't go home; dey don't want to 
see me down to Knoxville. I think I will stay S^orf. I helped 
quelch dis heah 'bellion, and I's free now, and I think I had 
i)etter stay free. 

Pat. — How the divil are ye a going to git a livin' up here? 
^'e ijetther go l)ack. 

Sam. — How I gwine to lib up heah? Why I's gwine to eat, 
mostly. How you get a libin'. 

Pat. — Why work man, and earn money. 

Sam. — I'd ruver run for de Congress, den I can cat and not 
work. 

Jacob K. — Yah, vou runs fast enough to catch das Congress 
or anything else mit two iegs on him. 

Sam. — I runs fast enough to kotch you, yuu big sour krout 
you. ^'ou hain't been in this year army long nufftoput in your 
lip, so you dry up. 

Kor.'r I). — There I'at, yun and Jacob let Sam be, I want to 
see him dance a little or sing a song. 

All the hoys say, "Yes, Sam, dance, we want to see you dance once more." 
Sam dances or sings. 

Rob't I). — There Patrick, don't y<>u wish you could do that? 

Pai". — Faith and I can; but do ye think I'd stoop so low as 
to dance for private soldiers? 

Rob't I). — Do something, Patrick, either sing a song, dance 
(jr do something to keep up with .Sam. 
Pat sings, dances or makes a speech. 

Pat. — Bate ^hat if ye can, and then I will try again. 
All the soldiers say "Good, good, give us some more 



38 

Jacob K. — Veil, if all you vellers do so, I show you some 
tings. (Sings or dances.) 

Adjutant G. — Colonel, I should think Marks and Green- 
wood would be back soon. Vou know the Adjutant Cieneral 
said the discharges were all made out ready for the regiment. 

Col. B. — I was thinking of that, Adjutant, and they must be 
here soon. But I suppose Greenwood had to step in and see Miss 
Marks a few minutes. You know he has been here only a 
week, and hasn't seen her more than rifty or sixty times. l>ut 
Greenwitod has been a faithful soldier, and I think it was a very 
wise idea to have Miss Marks come North. 

.\djutant G. — Walter Greenwood is every inch a soldier. I 
love him as a brother, and I must confess. Colonel, that it is 
hard for me to part with him. But to-night is our last, and I 
wish he would come, for I want to talk with him. Wy the way. 
Colonel, did you know that Walter was going to marry Miss 
Marks as soon as he is mustered out? 

Col. B. — Yes, Adjutant, and I was in hopes he would con- 
clude to be married today, so we could attend the wedding. 
Enter Walter Greenwood and Mr. Marks at L., 3 E. 

Walter G. — Colonel, I am a little late, but I believe a satis- 
factorv explanation can be given. Mr. Marks went with me tu 
the Adjutant Cieneral's office, and you know I always like to 
tell big stories, so I told him about Mr. Marks' adventures dur- 
ing the war, giving him a detailed account of what he had done, 
what he had suffered, what he had lost; how his family had been 
murdered — all about it. The General asked us to wait a few 
minutes, when he gave Mr. Marks a beautiful letter of commen- 
dation. I tell you, Colonel, it paid for wailing. 

Col. B. — Yes, Greenwood, you are entirely excusable. The 
(ieneral has only done Mr. Marks justice; he deserves it all. 

Walter G. — Colonel, I will return soon. (Exit at L., 3 E.) 

Marks. — Colonel, I ask for no words of praise. If 1 have 
been of any help in crushing this rebellion. I shall receive my 
reward day by day. Colonel, here are the discharge papers. 
(Hands Colonel a package.) 

Col. B. — Thanks, Mr. Marks; I almost hate to take them, 
for they are the instruments which will sever our band and sep- 
arate us for life. We shall see each other, but never again be 
united as a regiment. Adjutant, please give these to the men. 
Adjutant takes papers and gives each man an envelope. 

Sam. — Massa Adjtint, hab you done gone forgot all about dis 
chile? I tink I might have a paper too. 

Adj't. — Sam, you are not an enlisted soldier, although you 
have been faithful to every trust, and Mr. Marks tells me that 



39 

you were of great service to him in East Tennessee. You have 
much to feel proud of. Sam, you are now free. You will never 
he a slave any more. .Ml the money you now earn is your 
own, and you have no master to take it away from you. 

Sam. — Massa Adjcint, den I can earn money and buy farder 
and mudder from ole Massa Brown. 

Adj't. — Sam, your father and mother are free. Every slave 
in the South is free, and can now enjoy the same rights their 
masters do. 

Sa.\i. — I golly, is dat so, Massa Adjtint, every slave in de Souf 
free, den who am I? I used to he Mr. Samuel Hannibal Napo- 
leon Bonaparte Julius Cresar Brown, Esq., but now I done gone 
loss my maiden name — who is I?. 

Jacob K. — MineC^ott in himmel, vat one dundering long name 
dish nigger has got. I bes longer dan de drack te mud on his 
heel makes. 

Adj't — That is rather a difficult question, Sam, and I think 
the best thing for you to do is to give up part of that name, and 
call yourself hereafter, Mr. .Samuel Urown. 

Sam. — Massa, how can I call myself brown when I's black? 

Adj't. — ( ), that is your name that is all. 

P.VT. — Samuel, would yes be afther torminting the life out of 
the .\djitint? Didn't I tell yes a long time ago that yes was 
free? and I was in for the war? Now I have got my character in 
black and white,showing that the colored troops is all free entirely. 

Jacob K. — Dash ish all right, Sam; you just go home mit me 
and eats two dree hundred kegs lager peer and drinks whole 
lots switzer kase und schwatz bread, unt pe one man vas pig 
shust like me. 

Pa r. — And Dutchy has got his character too, which shows 
that the Governmint don't show no difterence twixt a white 
man, a Dutchman and a nagur. 

Marks. — Colonel, 1 have one more request to make of you. 
We are now citizens, but I feel that we are under your com- 
mand until we break camp. 

Coi.. I'>. — .\ny reasonable rec|uest of yours shall be granted, 
if in my power. 

M.VRKs. — Colonel, I have been with your regiment only a 
part of its term of service, but I have learned to love every man 
in it. iiy a kind providence your regiment was instrumental in 
delivering my only daughter from the jaws of the secession ser- 
pent, also in saving my life. Capt. Greenwood has made an ar- 
rangement with my daughter during the past week which will 
soon terminate in their marriage. My request, Colonel, is that 
they be married here in camp. 



40 

Col. B. — The very desire of my heart, my dear sir. I have not 
seen Miss Alice since the night she was rescued from the guer- 
rillas, and never had the pleasure of her acquaintance. 

Marks. — I will at once go and see her, and, if I can persuade 
her to come, I shall soon return. (Exit at I,., 3 E.) 

Col. B. — Boys, while Mr. Marks is away, let us have one 
more good old army song. 

One or more army songs here sung by the soldiers. — After the singing, Col- 
onel gives command, "Attention." — Enter Marks, Walter G. and Alice, 
L.,2E. 

Col. B. — Carry arms; present arms; carry arms; order arms. 

Mark-S. — Officers and men, please allow me to introduce my 
daughter, Alice. 
.Colonel salutes Miss Marks. — Soldiers salute with right hand. 

Col. B. — Comrades, we are about to separate and return to 
our homes. 1 here we shall tind happy friends to meet us. Once 
more we are to engage in the pursuits of civil life. We are com- 
paratively few of the brave boys who first went to the front. 
Where are the rest? Some sleeping their last sleep on .South- 
ern soil where they fell in battle; others are sleeping beneath 
the very shadow of the prison pens w here they have died by 
inches; some have returned home maimed for life, anrl others 
have died of disease. We have mut h for \\hich to be thankful, 
and as we return to our homes let us return thanks that "no 
bugle at to-morrow's dawn shall awaken us to a reveille of blood. 

MARK.S. — Comrades. I have much that I wish to say, but I 
will not take up your time. I havt^ lived to see this happy day; 
lived to see my children safe from the very jaws of death; lived 
to see the North and South again united. (Takes .Alice's and 
Greenwood's hands.) Walter Greenwood, I freel> give you my 
daughter's hand. Be true and faithful to her; and as the North 
and South have been united by fire and blood, so may you be 
united by the tire of love and affection, constantly thinking of 
Him who gave His blood for us all, and who prt)claimed to the 
whole world: "Peace on earth; good-will toward man." 

Alice. — Oncers and soldiers, I can only thank you for your 
timely help to me on that dreadful night when I was about to 
suffer even worse than death. You have all suffered much in this 
terrible rebellion; but don't think all the people South were 
traitors to the dear old flag, which now so proudly floats over a 
leunited country. Far from it; many, very many have died l)e- 
cause of their loyalty ; and as you return to your homes carry 
with you sympathy for them all, and remember with pride the 
Loyal Mountaineers of East Tennessee ! 
Tableaux — "Union of Hearts and Union of Hands." — Curtain. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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